


Subject: History of Art Essay #1

by apolloxbvcky



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awesome Natasha Romanov, Gay Bucky Barnes, Gay Steve Rogers, How is that not a tag, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers Is a Mess, University Student Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apolloxbvcky/pseuds/apolloxbvcky
Summary: The first email arrives on the last week of September.Bucky is just scrolling down Instagram when the mail notification shows up on the top of his screen.steverogers18@nyu.eduSubject: History of Art Essay #1There’s no body on the email, only an attached document.___In which Steve Rogers is a mess of a student and sends all his essays to a wrong email address
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 9
Kudos: 109





	Subject: History of Art Essay #1

The first email arrives on the last week of September.

Bucky is just scrolling down Instagram when the mail notification shows up on the top of his screen.

He opens it, expecting spam from some store he bought from a long time ago or something, but when the app finishes loading, he’s received with a mail from an NYU student, according to the address. Then, he checks which one of his mails it was sent to. As he had guessed, it’s his old NYU email, the one he used when he was enrolled there for his engineering degree. He frowns and opens the email.

[ _steverogers18@nyu.edu_ ](mailto:steverogers18@nyu.edu)

_Subject: History of Art Essay #1_

There’s no body on the email, only an attached document.

Bucky scratches his beard, looking at the screen. Okay, so there’s two options.

One, this is a joke and the attached document is some kind of prank.

Or

Two, some pour kid mistook his old NYU email with one of his current professor’s.

He debates the situation with himself for a few minutes, and in the end, just in case it’s the second scenario, he opens the attached document. It’s a whole essay about the Roman art, with a lot of pictures and what look like hand-made drawings he must have scanned. The kid has talent, that’s for sure. Just because he’s curious, and the essay is not that long – it’s only five pages, pictures included – he starts reading it. When he’s finished, he sighs. He must tell the kid that he got the email wrong, not only because he does not want to receive more History of Art essays, but because the other guy has done a hell of a work with this one and deserves to be rewarded. He opens the mail app again and types a quick reply.

_Hey! Sorry, you must have gotten the email address wrong – I’m not your professor, I’m a NYU alumnus. Still, I read that essay, and it’s great! Hope you get a good grade._

_P.S: you got a typo on the second page, third paragraph. ‘Where’ is for place, ‘were’ is the verb you were looking for (see what I did there? Ha.)_

_Good luck with your degree!_

He hits _send_ and is about to lock his phone when he decides he should probably log out of the account. He doesn’t use it anymore, and there are no class reunions in the foreseeable future – he graduated only two years ago, after all. He logs out of the account and locks the phone, standing up to get himself a snack. 

Almost two months later, in mid-November, his roommate Clint texts him.

_Hey_

_Our Netflix free month finished yesterday_

_Can you get us a new account??_

Bucky groans. He was so relaxed just lying on his bed, and now he has to get up and do stuff.

_I don’t know_

_Can I?_

_Bro_

_I haven’t finished my fucking show, so you better get me another free month_

_Ok jeez I was joking_

_I don’t know if I have any email I haven’t used yet tho_

_Make a new one!!_

_Shut up, I’m going to_

Bucky stands up and goes for his laptop, turning it on. He starts thinking about all the real email addresses he has, to make sure which one he hasn’t used yet. He scratches his beard. Well, there is one, but is it moral to use an address you don’t use anymore when it’s supposed to be only used for college?

“Bah, whatever. It’s not like the dean is coming after me.” He mutters to himself.

He opens Netflix and clicks into register. Once he’s finished doing that, he logs back into his NYU email account to verify it. But when he does so, instead of the one single email from Netflix he was expecting, he sees he has at least another seven. And they’re all from the same person: [steverogers18@nyu.edu](mailto:steverogers18@nyu.edu).

“Shit. No. It can’t be.” He whispers. He opens them all, one for one, and sees that they all contain the same. Different essays and projects, all meant to be sent to a certain History of Art professor. He frowns. He told the kid he wasn’t his professor, why did he keep sending him his homework? He checks his _sent_ section, and sees the last email is two years old. “No way. I sent it!” he says, and then goes to his drafts. And there it is, the email he meant to send two months earlier. Bucky runs his hands through his hair. Is it possible he ruined this kid’s chance of passing this subject? Goddammit. Well, it’s the kid’s fault for not checking who he was sending it to. And it’s been two months. Does he not talk to his classmates? Isn’t it weird he hasn’t received any grades yet?

He bites down on his lip and tries to decide what he should do now. Okay, he has to tell him. And make sure he does tell him now. Should he send the same email? No, he shouldn’t. He sighs and starts typing a new one.

_Hey, Steve._

_I’m so very sorry for this, I sure as hell thought I had sent you an email back in September, but it didn’t send. I graduated two years ago, so I don’t actually use this account anymore. I just logged in because… well, reasons, and saw all your work. I am so sorry about this, but I’m not who you think I am. I’m just a NYU alumnus. So yeah, you’ve been sending your homework to me. Jesus, I’m sorry. Here’s a screenshot of the first email I meant to send you (seriously, kid, you gotta work on your grammar)._

_Again, I’m sorry. I hope you don’t fail the subject because of this. And if you need to talk to your professor about this, I can back you up about it. Anything you need. I am sorry._

_James Barnes._

He hits _send_ , and makes sure it works this time, and then he puts his phone on the bed. He sighs, looking at his laptop on his legs. Right, the thing he logged into the email for. Netflix. He could use a movie.

He’s halfway through one of the stupid Netflix comedies when his phone makes a _swoosh_ sound, notifying a new e-mail. He picks it up to see it’s from the Steve kid. Bucky sighs.

“Please don’t be another essay.” He mutters, opening it.

_Mr. Barnes,_

_I can’t believe this. I’m sorry about it. My History of Art teacher’s name is also James Barnes, so I guess I must have clicked on the B twice._

_Thank you for telling me, although I wish that first email had been sent._

_And thank you for checking my spelling mistakes. I’ll make sure to proofread my essays more thoroughly from now on._

_Steve Rogers._

Bucky smiles when he finishes reading it. The kid seems very polite, and he kind of feels bad that he’s on this mess partly because of him. He quickly types a new email.

_Steve,_

_Don’t worry, it was nice to read them. Well, actually, I enjoyed the drawing more than anything. You’re talented, kid._

_But I am worried about you. Will you pass the subject sending your homework late? Again, if you need to talk to your professor to explain it, I can go and back you up. Bring the emails, my ID, anything to make sure you get out of this situation._

_James Barnes._

Steve’s response comes a few minutes later.

_James,_

_Don’t worry about it. I will work it out on my own. It was my fault, after all. I’ll see what I can do, but thank you for offering. It’s appreciated._

_Steve Rogers._

Bucky sighs, running his hands through his hair. Well, if the kid doesn’t want to be helped, then there’s nothing he can do. He puts the phone down and presses play on the movie again.

It isn’t until the following week that Bucky hears of Steve again.

He and Clint are sitting on their couch, side by side. Bucky is watching TV and Clint is shopping something on Bucky’s laptop.

“Hey, Buck?” Clint says. “Someone followed you on Instagram.” He says.

Bucky turns to look at him, frowning.

“Did you hack into my Instagram again?” he asks, taking his phone from the table.

“It’s not hacking if you keep using your sister’s birthday as your password.” Clint rolls his eyes.

Bucky punches him on the bicep and unlocks his phone. Going to Instagram, he sees his new follower: _sgr18_. He clicks on the profile. There’s a lot of drawings that feel familiar to him, but no pictures of the actual person behind the account.

“You’ve got a DM.” Clint informs him. Bucky punches him again.

“Log out!” he orders him. Clint rolls his eyes, but doesn’t put his fingers anywhere near the mouse.

Opening the DM, Bucky widens his eyes.

_James,_

_I hope this is you. There are a few more James Barnes on New York than originally thought (I even found my professor’s account, which isn’t as weird as I thought it would be. Maybe it’s because I’m older now)._

_The thing is, I sent my essays to my professor, but he doesn’t believe my story. I don’t blame him, it isn’t something common. You told me you’d back me up if I asked you, so I guess this is me asking. I have a tutorial with him next Tuesday at 11 o’clock, so if you could come and explain him what happened, that would be great. I get it if you don’t, though._

_Steve Rogers._

_PS: I contacted you through Instagram because it felt quicker than email, and I’m kind of stressed about this whole thing. I’m sorry if I overstretched or anything._

“Wow.” Clint says, looking at him. “Who is this guy?”

“Clint. Seriously. Log out.” Clint sighs and Bucky looks at him until he logs out of the account. “He’s some kid who messed up and started sending his homework to me. Apparently, his professor’s name is James Barnes, too.”

“You have to help him. Poor kid.”

“I know. I know.” Bucky sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

_Hey, Steve! It’s okay, of course I’ll be there. Just tell me where. I feel kind of guilty about this whole thing, so it would be great to be there for you. Also, don’t worry. I’m not mad you followed me here or anything._

Clint looks up from the phone to face Bucky. “How old is this guy?”

Bucky frowns at him. “Don’t read from behind my shoulder. I don’t know, why?”

“Because you need to get out of the house more.”

“I get out of the house plenty.”

“No, you do not.” Clint says, ruffling his hair. “You, my friend, need a boyfriend.”

“I know nothing about this guy. Just his name and this one class he takes at NYU.”

“Well, you’re meeting him on Tuesday, aren’t you? Make a move. Who knows, maybe you’ll end up marrying him.” he says, standing up.

“Why does it feel like you know something I don’t?” Bucky says. Clint shrugs and gets into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

On Tuesday, at 10.45AM, Bucky finds himself at the door of the Institute of Fine Arts, a white building in Manhattan. His coffee cup is already empty, but he still has it in his hands. He feels kind of nervous.

During the last few days, Steve and him kept talking through DMs. Steve told him he was a senior in Fine Arts. He was actually Bucky’s age, but he had been held back twice as a kid because of health issues. He hadn’t said anything more, and Bucky hadn’t asked.

Bucky had told him he had graduated in Computer Engineering, and was now working for S.H.I.E.L.D. Steve started panicking when he found out Bucky had a job to go to on Tuesday, but calmed down when Bucky assured him it would be okay. He was on medical leave, after all.

Bucky leans against the fence on the outside of the building, waiting for Steve. He doesn’t know what he looks like, but Steve knows how he looks, so he guesses Steve will come to him.

Not even thirty seconds later, he hears someone clear his throat near him.

“James?” a voice says. Bucky looks up from the floor and to his right.

In front of him, a taller man stands. He’s blond, from the bangs that peek out of his grey beanie. He has blue eyes, and his nose is red from the cold. He’s clean shaved, his smile whiter than the snow on under their feet. There’s a red scarf around his neck and he wears a blue bomber jacket, his hands on its pockets, along with jeans and a pair of Converse sneakers.

“Hey. Steve?” Bucky says, offering him a hand. Steve takes his out of his pocket and shakes Bucky’s. Bucky shivers at the cold of Steve’s hand.

“Yeah. Thanks for coming.” He says, as he puts his hand back in his pocket. Bucky is mesmerized. The guy looks great, even his voice is amazing. Clint might have been right, after all.

“It’s my pleasure.” (And it is). “You can call me Bucky.” Steve nods.

None of them says anything for a few seconds, just looking at each other. (Or, in Bucky’s case, shamelessly checking him out.)

“We should go inside.” Steve says. “The offices are in the back of the building.”

Bucky nods, and they walk inside the building. Once they’re inside, Steve takes off his beanie, running his right hand through his hair. It’s damped, probably from the humidity – it had been snowing the whole morning –, and it falls on his forehead, making him look younger than he is. He totally blends in with the other students, unlike Bucky, who feels too old to be in this building as a student, and too young as a professor.

They finally reach a door where it says ‘ _James Barnes’_ , and Steve knocks twice. When they hear someone say come in from the inside, he opens the door.

“Mr. Barnes.” The blond greets the man, not entering the room.

The man sitting behind the desk looks up. He’s on his fifties, probably. His hair is already going grey and he has a few wrinkles around his eyes. He has a moustache – also grey, and he wears a red jersey on top of a white shirt with a brown blazer. 

“Mr. Rogers. Good morning.” He looks behind the blond guy, where Bucky is. “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m James Buchanan Barnes.” He introduces himself. “I’m an alumnus.”

Mr. Barnes leans forward on his desk, his arms on top of it, and his chin on top of his closed fists. “Continue.”

Steve and Bucky nod, getting inside the room and closing the door behind them. Bucky takes his ID from his wallet and gives it to the professor.

“I graduated in Computer Engineer two years ago. You can ask your colleagues at Tandon. I was top of my class.” He says. “And my email address was jamesbbarnes@nyu.edu. Steve here must have pressed in the B key once more than necessary. I have all the emails too, if you want to see them.”

The professor looks at him, nodding. Bucky takes out his phone and shows him all the emails exchanged between Steve and him. After the professor skims them, he gives the phone back to Bucky, and looks at Steve.

“Well, Mr. Rogers. Even if your crazy story was true, it doesn’t change the fact that you sent your projects late.” Steve nods. “I’ll grade them, but don’t expect high marks.” Steve nods again.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes. Truthfully.”

“You’re welcome. And be more careful next time. Not everyone you meet on the internet will be as forward to help you as Mr. Barnes here.” Steve smiles at Bucky, who winks at him, and they say goodbye to Mr. Barnes and leave the office.

When they’re outside the building, as Steve puts his beanie back on, Bucky just looks at him.

“Seriously, thanks for that.” Steve says. “It was really important for me to pass this subject. I need to graduate this year.”

“It was nothing, seriously. It would have been shitty of me not to help you when I could.” Steve nods, and puts his hands on his pockets. He looks down to his feet, changing his weight from one leg to the other. Bucky clears his throat. “By the way. Would you like to, uh. Go have coffee? Unless you have something else to do now…”

Steve smiles at him, and Bucky thinks he can see his cheeks turn a little redder, although he’s not sure if it’s from the cold or something else.

“I’d love to.” Steve says. “I know a nice café near here. I go there sometimes between classes.”

“Great. Lead the way, then.” The blond nods and starts walking. Bucky follows.

“So you work for S.H.I.E.L.D. That must be cool. What do you do there?” Bucky laughs.

“I’m sorry. It’s classified. Mostly everything on S.H.I.E.L.D. is.”

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense, I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

“It’s okay. What are you going to do when you finish school?” Steve shrugs.

“I’m not sure yet, to be honest. I want to go freelance, but I would like to have something more secure. Maybe I can find a job at an art gallery or something.”

“It’s okay not to be sure. I wasn’t either. The S.H.I.E.L.D. thing only happened because a friend of a friend told me about it. I never even thought about working there.” He looks at Steve. “What I mean is, sometimes stuff comes to us instead of us going out to look for them.”

“Oh.” Steve says. Then he stops walking. “Here.” He points at the small shop behind him.

They get inside and sit on a table at the back.

“I have to go order at the bar, though, so how do you like your coffee?” Steve asks.

“Uh, black.” Steve raises his eyebrows. “What? I’m a tough guy.” The blond giggles and goes to the bar. Bucky looks at him make small talk with the waiter, a teenager with messy brown hair.

When the kid is done, Steve comes back to the table with two cups. “Here you go. Black coffee for you.”

“Thank you.” Bucky smiles at him.

Before he sits, Steve puts his cup on the table and takes off his jacket. Bucky almost chokes on his own saliva. Steve is wearing a thin red sweater, that looks like is about to rip on his chest. It defines his biceps perfectly, and his pecs too. Bucky fears he might be salivating. He has to take a sip from his cup to hide behind it.

Steve sits in front of him and smiles, running his fingers through his hair again.

“I love this place. Usually it’s only students here, so it’s really quiet, because they’re all either revising for exams or working on their projects. It’s really nice.”

Bucky nods, smiling. “God, I remember the student atmosphere in Brooklyn too. It was one of my favorite things from college.” Steve smiles at him.

“I know. Sometimes I don’t want to graduate, you know? I mean, I know I’m 24 and technically shouldn’t be in school anymore, but.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “That’s bullshit. Each person has a path. And a timeline. Life is not a race. Everyone does their stuff in their own time. I mean, look at me. I’m 24 too, but I don’t have a license. Does that make me less of an adult?”

Steve bites his lip. “You’re right. You’re right. It just sometimes… I don’t know.”

“Plus, you said you were held back because of health issues, right?” Steve nods. “But you’re healthy now, aren’t you?” Steve nods again. “Then it’s great. You’re 24, handsome, living your best life in college, and healthy. You’re living the dream, pal.”

Steve chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess you’re right.”

“I tend to be. Just FYI. By the way, I have a question.” Steve puts his cup down, leaving foam on his upper lip. Bucky has to hold back his want to lick it off, offering him a napkin instead. “How did you find me on Instagram?”

Steve blushes a little. “Well, I… looked for a James Barnes who lived in New York.”

“Yeah, I guessed that. How did you know it was me, though?”

Steve clears his throat. “I don’t know. I guess you can say it was hunch. I think I just wanted it to be you.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Steve blushes even more and clears his throat again. “I mean that you’re really attractive, and I wanted it to be you so maybe… we could do this.” He says, pointing at him and Bucky.

Bucky smiles, and leans forward. “So, are you glad about the result of your search?”

Steve smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

When they leave the café, Steve looks at him. “How did you get here?”

“Subway.” Bucky smiles.

“I can take you home if you want. Where do you live?”

“Brooklyn.” Bucky says. “Near DUMBO, by Bridge Park.” Steve snorts.

“That’s gay of you.” he jokes.

“We just had a coffee date. I think there are many things that are gay of me.” Steve snorts again. “Well, where do you live, then?”

“ _In_ DUMBO. John Street.” He winks. “Come on, I’ll take you.”

“You got a car?” Bucky asks as they start walking back to the Institute.

“A motorbike. You okay with that?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah, rode a few. I’m okay with it.”

Steve nods. They walk in silence, their shoulders bumping. Then, from one moment to another, Bucky feels a new weight on his shoulders. He looks to his side to see Steve looking down at him, blushing a little. Bucky shakes his head, laughing.

When they reach Steve’s motorbike, Bucky rides it first. Steve gets on it second and turns it on.

“Hold on tight.” He orders. Bucky obeys, putting his arms around the other man and his cheek pressed against his back.

After a few minutes, Steve stops in front of Bucky’s building. They both get off the vehicle and stop to look at each other.

“I think you should give me your number now.” Steve says, raising an eyebrow. Bucky laughs, taking his phone out his pocket.

When they’re done exchanging numbers, they look at each other again.

“I think you should kiss me now.” Bucky says. Steve smiles widely, and nods.

He leans in, pressing his hand to Bucky’s cheek. When their lips touch, Bucky feels like he’s going to melt, and he wants this moment to last till the day he dies. Steve’s lips are much softer than his, and his cold hand on his face is sending shivers down his spine. He’s definitely in heaven.

Suddenly, someone whistles. The pair look up to Bucky’s building, to see Clint on the window.

“Hi, Bucky!” he says. Bucky frowns, looking down and pressing two fingers on the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry. That’s my roommate. And an asshole.” Steve laughs, putting his arm around Bucky again.

“It’s okay.” he says, kissing his hair. “Hey, Clint!” he yells. “Can you tell Nat to come downstairs?”

“I’m on it!” Bucky’s roommate says, disappearing inside the apartment again.

Bucky frowns at Steve. “You know Clint?” Steve shakes his head.

“Only from pictures. He’s dating my best friend.”

“Natasha is your best friend?” he says. “Oh, my God. You know what that means?”

“We’ve been set up?” Steve says. Bucky nods.

“We’ve been set up.”

Natasha appears in the front door of the building, her red hair in a ponytail and a smile on her lips.

“Hey, boys.” She greets them as she takes the helmet from Bucky’s hands. “How was your date?”

“It was great, thanks for asking.” Bucky says, sarcastically.

“Did you make me send my essays to Bucky? I could’ve failed the subject, Nat.” Steve asks. Natasha snorts as she rides the bike.

“Of course not, baby. You did that all by yourself. But when you told me about what happened and I figured out who this James B. Barnes was, well. Clint and I realized you two could be a nice item. That’s why I suggested the Instagram thing. Now can we go? I have stuff to do.” She puts on the helmet, leaning back and supporting her weight on her arms.

Steve sighs, smiling at Bucky. “I have to go. Text me later?”

Bucky chuckles. “Yeah. Yeah, I will. Good luck with her.” He says, kissing his cheek.

Steve gets on the bike, and Natasha waves _bye_ at him as he starts the engine.

Bucky sighs, turning back to his building. Clint is on the window again.

“Barton, I’m going to kill you!” he yells, making Clint get inside the apartment and close the window.

They spend New Year’s Eve together, the four of them at Clint and Bucky’s apartment. Bucky and Steve have lost no time, already boyfriend and boyfriend. They’ve gone on dates almost every day for the last month and a half; and have already hit a few milestones on their relationship.

Bucky feared at first that they were going too fast, but all the dread disappear when he woke up to Steve’s head on his chest, letting out little snores that made his heart tremble, and he realized that was the sight he was bound to wake up to every day for the rest of his life.

Clint and Nat are on the living room, putting on the final decorations and setting up the table, while Steve and Bucky are making dinner.

“So.” Steve says, looking at his boyfriend. “I received a new email today.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. From James Barnes. The other one. The scary one.” Bucky laughs. “I passed. With an A minus.” He smiles.

“Steve!” he yells, excited, and hugs his boyfriend. “Didn’t he say not to expect high grades?”

The blond nods, running his hand up and down Bucky’s back. “Apparently he really liked my essays. And I aced the final exam, so.”

Bucky smiles and pecks his boyfriend’s lips. “They were really great, those essays. I’m so proud of you, baby.”

Steve snickers and kisses Bucky’s nose.

“So, you’re graduating this year.” Bucky says. Steve nods.

“I finally have all the credits. I’m graduating this June.” He says, excited.

“God, I’m so proud of you.” Bucky says, kissing him. Steve kisses back, losing themselves on each other’s lips until they hear Clint clearing his throat by the door.

“I’m glad you’re all gay and happy, but. I’m hungry.” He says. “I haven’t eaten in half an hour. I might as well die.”

Bucky rolls his eyes as he takes one of the trays. “Okay, okay. We’re coming.”

Clint grimaces and goes back to the living room. The couple follows him, trays in hand, to the table.

“This is all so grown up.” Natasha says. “Spending New Year’s with my partner, my best friend, and his partner.” She sighs. “Pass me the wine, I need to get drunk.”

Dinner goes by quickly, not even one moment of silence, specially once the first bottle of wine empties.

By 11.59, they’re all in front of the TV, Natasha sitting on Clint’s lap, and the other two so pressed against the other they practically are one person.

“Okay, here we go.” Steve says, his words slurred by the alcohol. His cheeks and nose are red, like the first time Bucky saw him, but this time, it’s rather from the warmth than the cold. Bucky just wants to kiss him silly.

The countdown starts and Bucky can’t stop staring at Steve.

 _Ten_.

He takes his boyfriend’s hand,

 _Nine_.

He looks back at him.

 _Eight_.

They smile at each other.

 _Seven_.

Steve strokes Bucky’s cheek with his thumb.

 _Six_.

Bucky puts his hand on Steve’s.

 _Five_.

He kisses Steve’s hand.

 _Four_.

The look at each other’s eyes.

 _Three_.

Steve leans in.

 _Two_.

Bucky leans in further.

 _One_.

“Happy New Year.” Steve whispers at him and kisses him. Bucky smiles.

It’s definitely going to be a happy new year.

**Author's Note:**

> this whole idea came from a stupid conversation with my friend irene, so kudos to her!  
> hope you guys like it  
> kudos and comments are always welcome :)


End file.
